one.

Where he is, there she appears, and remains with him--loving and
fruitful--turning never aside in moments of hope deferred--of
insult--and of ribald misunderstanding; and when he dies she sadly
takes her flight, though loitering yet in the land, from fond
association, but refusing to be consoled.[33]

[Note 33: And so have we the ephemeral influence of
the Master's memory--the afterglow, in which are warmed,
for a while, the worker and disciple.]

With the man, then, and not with the multitude, are her intimacies;
and in the book of her life the names inscribed are few--scant,
indeed, the list of those who have helped to write her story of love
and beauty.

From the sunny morning, when, with her glorious Greek relenting,
she yielded up the secret of repeated line, as, with his hand in hers,
together they marked in marble, the measured rhyme of lovely limb and
draperies flowing in unison, to the day when she dipped the Spaniard's
brush in light and air, and made his people live within their frames,
and _stand upon their legs_, that all nobility and sweetness, and
tenderness, and magnificence should be theirs by right, ages had gone
by, and few had been her choice.

Countless, indeed, the horde of pretenders! But she knew them not.

A teeming, seething, busy mass, whose virtue was industry, and whose
industry was vice!

Their names go to fill the catalogue of the collection at home, of the
gallery abroad, for the delectation of the bagman and the critic.

* * * * *

Therefore have we cause to be merry!--and to cast away all
care--resolved that all is well--as it ever was--and that it is not
meet that we should be cried at, and urged to take measures!

Enough have we endured of dulness! Surely are we weary of weeping, and
our tears have been cozened from us falsely, for they have called out
woe! when there was no grief--and, alas! where all is fair!

We have then but to wait--until, with the mark of the Gods upon
him--there come among us again the chosen--who shall continue what has
gone before. Satisfied that, even were he never to appear, the story
of the beautiful is already complete--hewn in the marbles of the
Parthenon--and broidered, with the birds, upon the fan of Hokusai--at
the foot of Fusi-yama.

[Illustration]

"_Rengaines!_"

[Sidenote: _Pall Mall Gazette_, Feb. 21, 1885.]

Last night, at Pri